A Grim Undertaking: An Arie & Stephen Production
by skilled-like-a-ninja
Summary: Written cooperatively with a friend from HPANA. Arie and Stephen are two trouble makers... but what happens when one of their pranks leads to something bigger? T for violence. Written with original characters, MWPP era.


**Disclaimer** - none of the stuff in here you recognize is mine. Or Stephen's.

**Additional Disclaimer**: I wrote this cooperatively with Fool on the Hill (Stephen) from HPANA. The characters Arie and Stephen are his creation, not mine, as is most of the plot and the title (except for the "An Arie and Stephen Production" part is mine). I have to say, he wrote most of the good parts so the credit should go to him.

**Author's Notes: **Please read the additional disclaimer, it is very important. I wrote this fic cooperatively with Stephen for the NCWC (Non-Comedy Writer's Club) Challenge #3. We did not win, but we had an awesome time with it anyway.

**A Grim Undertaking: An Arie and Stephen Production**

It was a dark and stormy night, which is always a good beginning. The wind howled and the shutters rattled on the dark and dingy house. A hunched figure sat, poring over a piece of yellowed parchment, muttering unintelligibly to himself.

A knock came to the battered, slow and loud. The figure ignored it and continued reading the parchment. It came again even louder but more drawn out. It was ignored again, dismissed for the wind. The rapping came louder yet, and again the figure ignored it.

BOOM!

The door was suddenly swept off its hinges and in the doorway stood a dark and menacing figure. The figure cried out in alarm.  
"I am the Grim Reaper..." said the intruder in a low and gravelly voice. He raised his staff and the figure fell over, stone cold dead.

The intruder stood there for a moment, looking around the room. It nodded to itself and left.

Incidents like this were happening all over the country. Little Whinging, Finchley, Essex, London - nowhere was left untouched by the menace. The police were stumped so as to what was killing the people, and why.

Not even the wizarding world knew what was happening, though they had a slightly better idea of how. The only thing that twelve trained Aurors could come up with, much to the embarrassment of the ministry of magic was "it was some kind of magic".

Each scene was the same. A body dead without a cause, spread out on the floor, eyes closed and hands folded together, and their face covered in a bed sheet from their own house (except in the case of Miriam Roberts in London, in which case her sheets were at the cleaners and the killer had used some pink lingerie from her room, which would have looked rather funny if it weren't so horrible).

The entire country was worried because of the apparent random choosing of the next victim. Doors locked, windows shut, and children brought inside by their parents. The only two people who weren't worried (other than the killer himself and old man Wilkins who never got out enough) were two students at Hogwarts who simply "didn't care". They figured the likeliness of the killer harming anyone they knew was rather slim. Just like the chances of a teacher catching them demonstrating their artistic talents on the portraits of past headmasters.

"Come on Arie, hurry it up. The headmistress will be here soon."

"Just hold the ladder Stephen; I only need to do the last one," Arie said as she began on the last portrait, "this would be a lot more fun if he wasn't so happy about it."

"I think it's quite funny," the portrait of Albus Dumbledore laughed as his hair was painted bright pink.

"Oh shut up already," one of the other portraits said angrily trying to move as far to the edge of the frame as he could and avoid the badly drawn knight that was running around in his own portrait.

"Shush," Arie said, "someone's coming." The door opened and in walked the headmistress. She had a tired look on her face that looked almost sinister in the dark shadows. She sighed and was about to turn and go when one of the portraits screamed after being pricked by a tiny stick figure knight. Several of the other portraits burst out laughing at this including Dumbledore. She looked at the additions to all the walls and the words "The Queen of Hades and The Crowned One were here," floating above her. "Not again," she sighed pulling out her wand, "let me guess, none of you know who did it?"

"Did what?" the bald headmaster said innocently while stroking his new mustache.

Arie and Stephen were already on the other side of the castle before speaking. "The crowned one?" Arie asked as Stephen tried to keep up.

"It's the meaning of the name Stephen" he said losing his breath, "From the Greek name Stephanos meaning "crown" or "crowned one".

"You're so weird. I'm not even going to ask how you know that." Arie said shaking her head and speeding ahead of him.

"Hey wait up!"

The next day, which was a Saturday, Arie dragged Stephen to the library to look up name meanings.

"But I already know the meaning of my name!" whined Stephen.

"Yeah well shush; I wanna know what my name means. We need to get you a different title too, they're so gonna figure that out. I mean, nurr, it's the meaning of your name! And there's so only one Stephen in this castle!"

Stephen looked surprised. "I never thought of that!"

Arie smiled wryly. "You're going to be a criminal, you've gotta think like a criminal. Now, let's get moving before that Pince lady asks us what we're doing. She so doesn't like us!"

Arie pulled Stephen along the shelf, muttering to herself. "Silly Spells, no... Superb Jinxes... What the heck? A complete set of Shakespeare?" she said with disgust. "What kind of library is this?"

They hurried on to the N's, where at last Arie pulled out a book that read "Name Meanings."

"Aha," said Arie, and proceeded to look up her name.

"Ariel... Lioness of God," said Arie.

"I never knew your real name was Ariel!" said Stephen indignantly.

"Yeah, well hush up about it and let's get out of here," said Arie, and proceeded to rush from the library with Stephen trying in vain to keep up yet again.

Arie and Stephen hurried back to the common room (which strangely had little in common with the castle's other rooms), hoping no one had missed them. But when they reached the portrait hole, they found the Fat Lady in hysterics and the Head of Gryffindor House coming out of the common room.

"Miss First, Mister… Stephen,"

"Why is it no one ever remembers my last name?" Stephen whispered.

"You have a last name?" Arie said in surprise.

"I regret to inform you that..." the Head of House went one, pausing to blow her nose, "that… the Headmistress… is dead."

"Dead!" said Arie and Stephen in unison, looking at each other in shock. A shiver went down Stephen's spine.

"What happened?" Arie asked.

"They found her just like all the others, lain on the floor with a sheet over her head and her eyes closed…"

"Wait," Stephen interrupted, "how did they know her eyes were closed right away if she had a sheet covering them?"

"They took the sheet off stupid," Arie said shaking her head.

"Oh right, go on then."

The Head of House looked at him for a moment before continuing, "They found her in an empty classroom just an hour ago. They're sending some people from the ministry to investigate in an hour or so."

"What classroom was it?" Arie asked politely.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious…"

Stephen and Arie were soon near the classroom in record time. "Why do we want to look at a murder scene?" Stephen asked.

"I told you, I was curious. She said they moved the body so don't worry so much."

"I'm not worried," Stephen said opening the door, "I just don't think we need to-Aaaaggghhh!" He jumped back at what he saw.

"Don't scream like that," Arie said angrily, "my ears are ringing."

"Th-there's b-blood everywhere…"

"Yes that much is obvious, such a messy crime murder." Stephen could tell she was only acting like this to hide how she was feeling, and that she was downright terrified.

They walked in, careful not to touch anything. There was an outline drawn where the body was found, it was surrounded by a circle of blood stains on the floor. There was a wardrobe and an open window through which a calm breeze was coming.

"Do you know what's weird about this?" Stephen asked, as Arie moved across to the other side of the room toward the open window.

"What?"

"The b-blood," he stuttered taking a deep breath before continuing, soon regretting it because of the smell, "They said that she was found like all the others, not a wound on her. If that's true then whose blood is this?"

He saw Arie shiver with her back turned to him as he said this. They both looked down at the blood; both pairs of eyes followed the trail leading to the wardrobe.

"For the record," Stephen said once the shock wore off, "It was your idea to come in here."

Curiosity overtook them as they walked toward the small wooden wardrobe, just the right size for one person to fit inside, just as long as they didn't mind having a broken back or their legs chopped off. Both of these ideas came into their heads as Arie reached slowly for the handle.

"I can't look," Stephen said covering his eyes. He heard Arie slowly turn the handle and open the door. She jumped back almost knocking him over, and cried out. "What? Stephen asked, "What is it?"

"Ooh, it's just… urgh, I can't even talk about it… It's so horrible."

Stephen opened his eyes, "You're right, that's horrible."

They both looked in horror inside the wardrobe, for inside, folded up at the bottom, almost unrecognizable from all the blood, was the headmistress's expensive coat that she almost always wore. "Well it could have been worse," Stephen said, there could have been…"

"Don't say it, "Arie interrupted.

"I'm just saying."

"No."

"I'm only trying to say that her hat could have been in there too, that thing was worth more than the coat."

"Oh right, I see your point." She looked down at the blood soaked coat, "why is it in there anyway?"

Stephen looked around the room, "it looks like the blood stains started over here by the window." He pointed to the place the blood was the thickest. He looked closely around the crime scene suddenly overcome with a curiosity to outmatch Arie's. "I think the blood might belong to the killer."

"What makes you think that, Detective Stephen?" Arie asked jokingly.

Stephen ignored this and leaned closer to the floor. He pointed out different points as he explained, "The killer came in through the window, that's why it's wide open. I think she tried to stop him so that's why he's bleeding, she must have really hurt him for him to bleed this much." He moved across the room without looking away from the floor, "It looks like he killed her and then moved over to check if she was dead, that's why there's all this blood around the body, you can even see his red footprints as he circled her."

"That's very nice and everything Stephen," Arie said as he finished talking, "but you are overlooking one small fact."

"What's that?"

"There are two pairs of footprints that were made before the blood dried."

After a shocked pause from Stephen, they both began taking more interest in the blood than they ever expected in their lives. Each would present an idea that they would argue about before finding they were both wrong and starting on a new idea. After much of this they finally worked out what had happened.

Apparently the killer had checked to see if the headmistress was dead, circled around her, and left. Later, anytime later for all they knew, another person came in, someone with slightly smaller feet. That person had taken off the headmistress's coat, placed a sheet over her eyes after closing them and folding the arms, wiped as much as the blood as they could with the coat, and put it away in the closet before leaving. Arie and Stephen looked at each other, proud of their great detective skills, then finally realizing the true horror of what had happened, they were both overcome with a serious case of what is known around here as "the jibblies."

They had just agreed to never speak of, or come near, the classroom ever again when Stephen realized something. "This happened last night after we broke into her office; she was only out here because of us."

Horror turned to guilt and terror as this sank in. It was their fault, their fault that the headmistress had died. This was of course not true, the killer would have killed someone anyway, or they would have killed her at a different time or place. It wasn't until later they both realized this as well as the fact that the headmistress might have not been able to hurt the killer before being killed if it had happened at any other time.

One more thing had to be checked before they left. Arie walked over to the open window and looked outside. She was surprised at what she found, nothing; there was nothing outside the window. She had expected at least some sort of clue to how they had gotten in and out, but there was nothing.

"Let's just get out of here already," Stephen said looking toward the door, "it's not like there's anything we can do anyway."

Arie leaned out the one more time just to make sure she hadn't missed anything. "I guess they could have just used brooms," she sighed feeling a drop of rain fall on her head and reaching up to where it hit, "oh well, I was at least hoping for some sort of…" Arie stopped after looking at her hand; it was red from blood, not wet from rain. Her eyes opened in shock and she instantly leaned outside the window again, this time looking up.

Next thing Stephen knew, Arie had somehow moved from the window the other side of the room in under a second. "Was I right about the hat?" He saw Arie shake her head before looking out the window for himself. Above him, swinging slightly in the breeze was not the hat. They had found the second intruder, but he wouldn't be much help with his head twisted like that and those bloody handprints on his neck.

Stephen had been leaning out further than Arie had; his hand slipped on the windowsill and he fell. He quickly grabbed the edge of the window with one hand as Arie ran over to help, but she was stopped by a heavy hand on her shoulder. "I am the Grim Reaper" a low and gravelly voice said from behind her. The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was Stephen's hand slowly losing grip.

Arie awoke rather unpleasantly, finding herself sitting against a headstone in the middle of God knows where, the masked Grim Reaper or whoever he was leering in her face rather rudely. She stifled a slight moan; her head was killing her.

"There's something rotten in the larder, dude; your breath smells awful!" she croaked, wishing she had something to drink and also trying to avoid the awful stench that was indeed emanating from this creepy dude wearing black.

"Ugh, dude, get some breath mints," complained Arie. She tried to reach up and plug her nose, only to find that her hands and feet had been bound tightly with coils of very strong rope.

"Hello my pretty," hissed the killer. "Nice to see you awake. And don't sass me," he said, his patronizing demeanor changing rapidly to an angry one. Before she could register what had happened he had slapped her across the face.

"That will teach you not to talk back to me…" he muttered.

"But you hadn't said anything in the first place," complained Arie, obviously not knowing when to stop. He hit her again.

"You should be glad all I've done to you is hit you… so far," said the killer, teasing her in a way that infuriated her.

Arie's brain was still a bit fuzzy. "Wait. You did what with Stephen?" she asked, confused. The killer just laughed. And laughed. And laughed until she wanted to cry, scream, and rip his face off simultaneously. Or strangle him. Or _something._ She resolved to herself that she'd make him pay later, for whatever he had done to Stephen. She just hoped he was all right… Arie shivered as she remembered the vision of his slipping hand.

Arie wasn't too pleased when this killer dude left her alone for a few hours while he went off and did whatever he did for fun. She was bored. And flipping out. And worried so much her stomach cramped. She couldn't get her mind off of Stephen. Can you blame her? I mean, the last time she saw him he was dangling off a windowsill. But she felt strangely free, despite the knots and ropes binding her. She was pretty sure that Stephen was dead – she wasn't afraid of the killer anymore. He had killed Stephen – or at least he had left him to fall to his death. He couldn't do anything worse. No matter how much she snapped at him and pushed him around, Stephen was her best friend.

She also worried about what the killer was off doing, and when he'd come back. If he came back. Maybe he'd leave her here to starve or die of thirst, and some unfortunate person would find her rotting skeleton. Or maybe he was off killing some poor person. Or maybe –

Heavy footsteps crunched on the leaves behind the headstone, and Arie cursed that she could not turn around and see who or what was approaching her. She felt very vulnerable, a feeling she hated. Naturally, she tensed and waited for the approaching – whatever it was – to do something.

The long minutes passed like hours, and Arie jumped something horrible when the killer reached from behind and grabbed her arm.

"Startled you, did I sweets?" he said mockingly. Arie controlled her urge to bite him and kept her face absolutely rigid, not acknowledging that he had spoken to her at all, not even with the slightest eye contact or movement.

"Sweets, I spoke to you, and I expect you to answer," he said, his voice threatening. Still she ignored him, being careful not to change her facial expression at all. She braced herself for the blow she figured was coming, and when it came her head slammed back into the headstone, and she knew no more.

It's amusing how the human mind works occasionally. Rather than come up with answers to current situations it would waste precious time thinking up questions with obvious answers, or worse distract anyone listening with annoying flashbacks to build up suspense in the situation or release unknown information, but fortunately that's not the case. Obvious questions are involved though, questions such as "How fast am I falling?" or "Oh crap, I'm going to die aren't I?" or the ever popular "What the hell just happened?"

Stephen, with his swift thinking, went through each of these questions somewhat fast, leaving him plenty of time to try and think up more, but to no avail. His attention was then turned to a way out, while fighting the urge to have a flashback. He reached for his wand and tried to think. What spells did he know that could save him? He finally reached the answer, he was going to die. He had just enough time to open his mouth and scream before his foot caught itself on a loose nail. He hung there for five seconds before he realized what happened. Stephen laughed to himself for his good luck, thinking about how having his leg nearly ripped off is much better than dying. His laughter was cut short by the loose nail being pulled out of the window frame, causing him to fall the remaining three feet to the ground.

Stephen sat up rubbing his head. "That's funny," he thought, "I don't remember it being night." His head ached from when he hit the ground. He stumbled along the castle wall, waiting for the little lights and spots to go away.

Two birds appeared flying low; at least they looked like birds form that far away. His vision was blurred and his brain had not yet woken up completely so he decided to stick with idea of them being birds. Large, wingless, strangely dressed birds, and with bright lights flashing between them too.

Wump! is the sound of two bodies colliding with a large amount of force while both are traveling in the same direction at two hundred miles per hour. One knocked the other off its support and down toward the ground where it is to collide with an unsuspecting victim who had made the mistake of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The good news was that Stephen had the sense knocked back into him. "Stephen? What are you doing out here?" asked the shocked figure that had fallen from the sky.

"I'm not sure, now what are you doing here James?" Stephen was surprised to see his friend there as much as he was to be there himself.

"Well… ok I guess I should tell you now. I'm in this secret club sort of thing where we race and stuff..." James looked at his feet and while mumbling on about brooms and secrets and stuff.

"So that's where you go on Friday nights. Now I want you to give me your broom, don't ask, and just give it to me. It looks like you're losing this race anyway." Stephen's mind had started gaining speed to keep up for lost time, he remembered the what he had heard before losing his grip, Arie was in trouble and he was already late. He grabbed the broom lying ten feet away in the grass and took off calling back over is shoulder, "Thanks James, I'll give it back soon don't worry."

James stood still for a moment, wondering what had just happened. "Uh… sure thing… anytime…" he said when Stephen was already too far to hear him.

Stephen had reached the window, trying not to look at the object still hanging above it. "You know," he thought to himself, "that rope is going to snap sometime, and someone will be very upset about it." He looked around inside, there was no sign of Arie or anyone else; there were signs of the Aurors who had come to investigate the murder, they must have not noticed the body outside.

He flew back outside, up high above the castle. He began to panic, not knowing what to do. "Come on Arie, where are you?" There was only one thing left to do.

Once again Arie woke in an unfamiliar surrounding. This time her face was against the dirt floor of an abandoned shack. She was still tied up, and she felt an uncomfortable wetness on the back of her head. Go figure.

She wondered briefly if anyone was going to rescue her, but dismissed the idea. She was still convinced Stephen was dead, and no one else would notice she was missing for hours. And they wouldn't know where to look anyway.

Then Arie had a much more alarming thought. Where was the killer and what was he doing? As much as she twisted around, it was hard for her to get the whole room in her vision. She noted some very abused chairs, and thought someone must have lived here once. The place almost seemed familiar, like she'd seen it before. It occurred dimly to her that she ought to know where she was, except she didn't.

She could have saved her energy for something more useful than all that twisting and straining her eyes, because the killer walked in through the doorway right across from her not a minute later.

"Hello there," he said, pretending to be friendly. _This guy is seriously demented_, Arie thought to herself.

Silence for a few long minutes.

"I have a proposition to make," announced the killer, now taking the role of a bargaining businessman. "I need an assistant. And that's why you're here."

Arie grumbled. "That doesn't really sound like a proposition to me. What's in it for me?"

She of course was not seriously considering taking the deal, unless she absolutely had to, but she was rather bargaining for time, which she planned on using to figure out how to escape this mudpit.

The killer grinned, showing rotting teeth. "Your life."

Arie shivered. "Well… what would I do?"

The killer carelessly waved a hand. "You know, the usual sidekick stuff… isolate the victim, clean up the carnage… all the dirty work. Oh yeah, and the victim has to be disarmed too."

Arie snorted, feeling rather reckless. "I saw what happened to your last sidekick, why do you think anyone in their right mind would take the job?"

The killer leaned in, to stare Arie right in the eye. "He messed up. He had to be disposed of. But I'm sure you'd be a much better accomplice than him, he was an idiot and you're perfect for the job."

Arie didn't like it that he thought she was perfect for such a disgusting job. Then she had a thought. "You said I'd be working with the victims. Who is your next one?"

She had more of an intention of escaping and warning the person more than anything, if she could. The killer seemed to read her mind as he grinned and said, "Your friend Stephen."

Arie blanched. "Wait, so he isn't dead?" Hope flared within her. Maybe there was a chance. The killer grinned again. "Nope he's not, but he's going to wish he was."

Arie was panicking. "So you aren't going to kill me?" she asked blindly. The killer laughed loud and long, and Arie lost her head completely and did the first thing that came to mind. She screwed her face up in concentration, and next thing the killer knew she had disappeared with a small pop.

Stephen flew as fast as he could. There was only one thing left to do, one person who could help, one person… who was on vacation in Tokyo. It's time for plan B.

Stephen reversed, landed, and ran as fast as his legs could carry him up to the classroom where the headmistress's body had been found. He was very much out of breath, but within five minutes the Aurors were on their way.

He had thought real hard about it. There was only one place Arie would go to hide, the same place she always went. He knew she was alive, he figured that the killer would have killed her right then if he were going to kill her, leaving her body behind in the empty classroom. He also figured that if anyone could get out of a tight spot like that it was her; she had gotten them out of tighter corners before, even though she was the one who got them into most of them in the first place.

Every time they caused any trouble outside Hogwarts there was only one meeting place in case they had to run. It's much easier to run from somebody if they have to chase two people. He flew to The Three Broomsticks.

_Holy crap, I didn't know I could Apparate. Wait! CRAP! I did something illegal!_ thought Arie. She wished she could smack her forehead, except she was still tied up. Crap to the third power.

On top of breaking the law, now she was being stupid. _Okay, let's think. Where am I? What am I going to do? I mean, I have to do something or that creepy guy is going to catch up with me again. Where is Stephen when I need him? And how am I going to get these ropes off?_

But before Arie's confused brain could work any of this out, her eyes told her that the killer was walking down High Street.

_Oh crap_, she thought, _so much for a plan_. She was pretty sure if the killer saw her, it'd be curtains for her. Or torture, or something equally unpleasant. She really didn't want to find out which he preferred, and rolled under the nearest bench, scrunching up as close to the wall of the Three Broomsticks as she could get and hoping desperately not to be seen. There wasn't much else she could do, except send telepathic messages to Stephen. Which she doubted would work.

And the killer got closer. She was sure he had seen her now, and just waited. There was nothing else she could do.

"Well you're a troublemaker aren't you?"

Arie looked at the killer, trying to remain calm and resisting the urge to scream. _Ugh, where am I getting that? I never scream.  
_  
"Don't try that again, I know you can't. You were lucky to do it the first time."

"What do you want with me?" Arie shouted as he drew nearer to her. She was panicking again, and she knew it.

"Not you," he laughed, "you're only my assistant. You've already brought your friend right to me. I wonder how he knew you would be here." She looked up at him, shocked. "He's on his way right now to save you; you've made my job easier."

_Ugh, I so never agreed to that…_

"What do you want him for? What has he ever done to you, or any of these people you've killed? And how do you know he's coming to save me anyway?"

"Absolutely nothing, but he's on my list. Randomly selected people, you know. And people who tick me off. And friends of people who tick me off." The killer pulled a folded piece of parchment out of his pocket for a moment before putting it away and patting his pocket.

"You got that from a phonebook!"

"Possibly, but I'm the Grim Reaper, I kill whoever I want, and next on my list is Stephen…"

"What about me?" inquired Stephen as he came around the corner of Dervish and Banges and spotted Arie under the bench. "Arie, why are you under a bench?"

"Oh nothing," the killer waved his hand airily. "I'm just going to kill you, that's all…"

Arie glared daggers at Stephen. "Don't ask dude, just get me outta here."

"Oh," Stephen looked puzzled. "I was going to grab a drink, darn it…"

"A drink? What in the world is wrong with you?"

"Ahem," The self proclaimed harvester of souls interrupted, "Shouldn't we get back to business?" he raised his staff that he pulled out of nowhere. "I am the Grim Reaper!" he rumbled.

"No you aren't," Stephen said, catching the killer off guard, "You aren't nearly skinny enough and you have the voice and weapon of choice all wrong."

The murderer looked shocked for a moment before gaining back his momentum, now full of anger. "How dare you defy me? Mortal, I am the Grim Reaper, and I am here to kill you!"

_Stephen doesn't seem to have a full grip on this situation_, Arie thought,_ This killer dude's just weird, and possibly insane._

"You have that all wrong too," Stephen continued, "The Grim Reaper doesn't kill, he only ushers souls away after death, if you're him then where's your scythe?" At this, the killer was quite enraged.

_I think they've forgotten that I'm still here and tied up and under this ruddy bench_…

"Run you idiot!" Arie yelled at Stephen, "He's insane and wants to kill you, run!" Stephen ignored her; instead he just smiled as his future murderer drew nearer.

_Ugh, dude, he won't even untie me so I can bash this psycho dude over the head and run?_ Arie couldn't help but be exasperated.

"I'll show you to defy me!" the killer said raising his staff.

"You were going to kill me anyway, why would this make a difference? Go ahead, kill me."

_Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…_ Arie trembled. What was Stephen thinking?

The staff was swung toward Stephen, stopping before touching him. "What's wrong with this?" The killer said, frustrated and banging the staff against the floor. "You should be dead." He looked real hard at the stick in his hands. "This isn't my staff! Where is my staff?"

"You mean the one you left back in the room where the headmistress was killed?" Stephen said smiling. "You grabbed a broom handle that was leaning on the wall by mistake. I found your staff, the one you put the pieces of your wand in after they broke it and expelled you. I found that when I went back to contact the Aurors. They should be here in a few minutes; they told me all about you. You really shouldn't have overreacted when those kids teased you, trying to kill one and getting expelled was the worst move ever." He smiled more as he finished. He was pleased with himself; he had outsmarted the killer. He twirled his wand around with his hands, discreetly pointing it at Arie. To her glee, the ropes fell from her wrists and ankles. But that glee faded pretty quickly, given the situation.

"Stephen you idiot," Arie shouted desperately, "he's twice your size and carrying a big stick, he doesn't need magic to kill you!"

Stephen's smile faded as he looked at the hard broom handle in the killer's hands, then to his face. Eyes with pure hatred that looked into a world of their own moved toward Stephen, not even looking at him but more passing him and into another world.

"N-no on-one makes fun of me. I'll kill you John!"

"Who's John?" Stephen said just as the killers eyes closed and he collapsed to the floor. Arie repaired the pitcher she had thrown. "Nice shot," Stephen remarked.

"Thanks."

**Author's Notes: **This is the first time either of us have written anything cooperatively, so reviews are much appreciated, especially constructive criticism. We'd love to hear how to do it better. Thanks so much for reading (and hopefully reviewing)!


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